


Like She Always Did

by AphroditesTummyRolls



Series: We Stan a Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes-verse) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bittersweet, Childhood Memories, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Poe Dameron Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditesTummyRolls/pseuds/AphroditesTummyRolls
Summary: The first and the last time Poe had to say goodbye to Shara Bey.
Relationships: Kes Dameron & Poe Dameron, Shara Bey & Kes Dameron & Poe Dameron, Shara Bey & Poe Dameron, Shara Bey/Kes Dameron
Series: We Stan a Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes-verse) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598431
Comments: 34
Kudos: 111





	1. Promise? Promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Okkkkkkk. 
> 
> Hello! This is a warmup to expand the universe of my story, Love Will Help You Heal. This is a super prequel to that-- so no Finnpoe in this one, but I have a lot of stuff in the works for this verse, so don't you worry. There will be gratuitous Finnpoe. This little ditty is just an establishment of Shara's relationship with Poe and Kes, as well as the history that I concocted for Yavin IV (That history is rooted in the canon lore, but ultimately grew into something my own. I liked it better that way haha)
> 
> As always, if you like it, please leave me a comment! They are such a game changer when you put so much time and love into writing this stuff. Thanks! I hope you love it, it's sad and sweet.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything in this Star Wars sandbox! None of these characters are my creative property. Disney and Lucasfilm are the owners of this universe, and I am simply writing for my own enjoyment. I DO NOT MAKE ANY MONEY OFF OF MY WRITING.

The first time she left was barely a memory. More of a dream. He didn’t remember the fight they had, but he knew in hindsight that they must’ve had it for much longer than the tail end that he saw. Maybe it was what got his little feet out of bed in the first place. Daddy’s eyes were rimmed with red and Mama was pacing out her anger into the sitting room rug. Poe’s eyes were wide as he watched from the threshold to the hall, his little hand gripping onto the pillow that he’d tugged along with him from his room.

“—Kes, you know that this peace can’t last! After that mess with Kun… The Dark Side will _always_ return.”

“Let the war be won for just a _little_ while, Shara! Let yourself have a bit of peace—Hell, let us all have a moment to just be a family!” his face was lined beyond his years, unlike anything Poe had seen from Kes’s smiling face in his short, happy life.

Shara, for her part, looked decimated by the whole ordeal, whatever it was. Her own eyes were glimmering, frustration setting every muscle in her body into a rigid line “ _Oh_ , my _Love_ …” she sighed as if she’d already covered this a thousand times “We both fought _so_ _hard_ , I know. I’m sorry that I can’t just let this go, but Luke—”

“ _Luke_ can ask somebody else!” Kes finally broke, bringing his fist down onto the table in front of him, making Poe jump a little “We have a _family_ , Shara—we have a _life_!”

The silence was tense enough to explode at any second. Poe could feel every part of the room buckle under the power of his father's teary gaze and his mother’s trembling voice.

“Isn’t that all the more reason to protect it?”

She tugged her hands through her long, unruly curls, blinking away her tears. Kes deflated with a long exhale…

Poe didn’t notice much of it. He was still so small.

“What’s a _Luke?”_

Kes nearly jumped out of his skin, wiping his face and going to stand from the table, only to bust his knee on the corner. Shara wiped her eyes and schooled her expression into the warmest smile she could muster.

“Baby, what’re you doing up?” she cooed, beckoning him into the sitting room with a lightly trembling hand.

He plodded into the room, dragging his pillow and all, his little toes planting themselves in the rug next to his mother’s knee as she bent down beside him.

“Poe, you should be sleeping.” Kes chastised, but there was no heat in his voice.

“What’s a Luke? Why’re you sad?” he reiterated, his little mouth pouting impatiently.

“Luke Skywalker is a man. He’s an old friend.”

“He’s Aunt Leia’s brother, Baby.”

Suddenly, he liked the idea of a _Luke_ a lot more—Aunt Leia was the best. She let Poe play with the Falcon when Uncle Han wasn’t looking.

“Then _why’re_ you _sad?”_ he dropped his pillow to gesture wildly with his hands, wondering where the loose connection was— why wasn't anyone _answering_ his question?

Kes and Shara glanced at each other, floundering, and if Poe could remember it properly as a man, he’d look back in wonder at how _young_ his parents were. He would understand that, even with the best intentions, no one ever _really_ knows what they’re doing.

But Poe wasn’t a man. Poe was all of three years old, and all he knew was that he _didn’t_ _know_ anything. So, he did what three-year olds do best: he asked questions.

“Are you scared? What’s The Dark Side? Is it bad? Is that why you’re crying, Daddy?”

Kes gaped, mouth opening and closing like a short-circuiting fuse, his eyes wide as if Poe’s tiny voice was reciting all his worst fears back to him, “ _No_ , Baby, no—I’m not scared, everything’s _fine_ , Mama and I were—”

“Just discussing some important stuff.” Shara finished, nodding to her husband like some type of _Parent_ _Code_. Before he could get any more air into his questioning little lungs, Shara continued “It’s way past your bedtime, Poe. C’mon—let’s get some sleep, and we can talk in the morning.”

“Promise?” he looked up at her, his sweet little face pleading, brown eyes like saucers in his face. She cupped his cheeks and stroked the rosy apples of them with her thumbs, grinning before she kissed his forehead.

“I promise, Baby.”

He said goodnight to his dad, feeling more at ease when Kes was smiling again.

His room was small, but he didn’t know that, because he was small, too. Shara got her strong hands under his arms, and sat him down on the edge of his mattress to burrow into his blankets. She replaced the pillow at his head, and stroked his dark hair back from his face.

“Goodnight, Baby.” She whispered. Her smile was soft and warm, and Poe wasn’t scared of what he’d seen anymore.

“You promised, Mama.” He reminded her one more time.

“I sure did.” She nodded, “And tomorrow, we’ll have a little adventure, but only if you get your rest.”

She kissed his forehead one last time, and he did just that.

* * *

Mama helped him put on his shoes, and Daddy made sure he had his little hat.

“Wet season might be over, but it’s still chilly out there this early, Kiddo.”

He wrinkled his nose at it as Kes’s gentle hands slipped the cap over his curls, but once he took his mom’s hand and they walked out the kitchen door, he decided against pulling it off his head. His dad was right, for now. Kes kissed Shara lightly on the cheek, a silent apology passing between them, but Poe wasn’t feeling particularly patient-- Mama had _promised_ him an adventure.

The walk was long for his little legs, and when he couldn’t run, jump, or dodge between the trees and vines anymore, he let Shara put him on her hip. He chattered about the birds and the leaves, but he hushed as they passed their ancestor’s temple to head deeper into the jungle.

Their favorite spot was by the stream behind the big glen of rocks—Shara and Kes took him there to learn about the plants, to read to him, and to pass long summer days when Poe was eager to get into the shadowy cover of the trees. Mama sat down on the mossy seat she usually took and situated Poe in her lap so he wouldn’t squirm.

The stream burbled, the birds sang, and Shara smiled at him.

“D’you know what these rocks are, Baby?” she gestured out at the glen before them.

Poe shook his head.

"They're old temples. Ancient temples."

"Like ours?" 

"Yeah, they're pretty similar... Wanna story?"

She told him about the rocks. And the race that built them, thousands of years before. The Massassi were a proud, fearsome race of warriors native to Yavin IV. They didn’t like other people on their land, but they manufactured beautiful ornamental blades that they traded with merchants from all over the galaxy. Some of the trade connections stayed open for generations, building relationships with a special few.

But one was a Sith named Exar Kun—he used the power of the Dark Side to subdue the Massassi and to banish their intergalactic friends. The Massassi were master builders and craftsmen, and Kun forced them to build only for him, as his slaves. The temples that they had built to the ancestors for so long were perverted and twisted into centers of dark power, and new temples were built to honor the Sith race. The Massassi were slowly worked to death over generations, until Kun grew tired of them and wiped them out to claim their land.

“Mama?”

“Poe, the galaxy is about balance. The Force is a powerful thing, and its true magic lies in the intent of the user. There are people like Luke and Aunt Leia and me—we use the Light Side of the Force, to bring harmony and peace. The Sith use the Dark Side. And it comes from fear and hate and selfishness. Do you understand?”

He didn’t. He shook his head, his tiny brow forming a furrowed line in his forehead. Shara chuckled and shrugged, her serious tone evaporating in a moment.

“Do you want to play instead? Or do you want me to keep my promise?”

He whined, shaking his head, begging for her to continue—the jungle would always be there, but his mother’s stories were unique each time.

The Massassi were gone, and stayed gone for centuries. The Sith harvested the planet for all it could give before leaving it behind, uninhabited by even the smallest little seedling. That was how humans and other species—the descendants of those who had once been lucky enough to befriend the Massassi—found the moon. It was a shell of what their grandparents or parents had told them, but they chose to stay. The jungle slowly grew back, growing up around and through the both old temples that the Massassi had worshipped in for millennia, and the ones they were killed for. The people who settled on Yavin IV lived in these temples as homes for a long time—generations were born in them, generations died in them. They became sacred again, for different reasons. Once the jungle had grown, they started building more homes, and the temples became places of community and ritual again.

It was peaceful, until the Empire began its rise, and the Sith came back.

They didn’t bother with slavery, all they wanted was the land— the Yavin system had always been a hub of Force energy. The people were of no use to them, and they killed as many as they could. The survivors only lived by hiding in the belly of the first temple—The Great Temple.

“Those were your grandparents.” Shara kissed the top of his head through his hair.

Poe had never known them.

“The Sith stayed for years. Your grandparents died forcing the Dark Side out—when the first Rebellion formed, the survivors offered the Great Temple, and the planet to Aunt Leia’s forces. They _saved_ us.” She stood her son up off her lap, turning him to look her squarely in the face with his wide, wondering eyes. “Daddy and I fought for the galaxy, for Yavin, and for you. But peace doesn’t stay, Poe. You have to _maintain_ it. I am going to go away for a little while—just a week, not long—to fight with Luke and Aunt Leia, and Uncle Han.”

Poe didn’t quite grasp it. Kids that young rarely do—Shara was smiling, like everything was okay. But she was also holding him, like something was wrong.

She was going away to fight with Aunt Leia.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he must’ve said the right thing, because she pulled him close in a big hug, “I love you, Baby—you know everything I do is for you.”

And then, they played. Poe dodged between trees and found the perfect hiding spots throughout the ruins. Shara told him stories about Luke Skywalker, and being a pilot up against the Death Star of the Empire. He stood on top of the tallest rock he could find and declared with all the confidence in the galaxy that one day, he’d be a pilot, just like her.

They took the long way home with their adventure accomplished, when they stumbled into an area of the jungle that Poe had never seen.

The Great Temple didn’t look empty as much as it _felt_ empty. **** ~~~~

It was cavernous—a shadowy old thing with huge roots splitting it apart, growing over and between the megalithic bricks. Vines crept out of every corner, draping over the entrance.

“When you were just born, there was a disturbance in the Force here. I could feel it, and I called Luke. With him and Daddy and me, we destroyed the last bits of Exar Kun’s spirit, hidden deep in the temple’s tunnels. He was emanating his dark powers again, trying to draw out the Sith and destroy all we’d fought for.”

“I… Is he gone, Mama?” he swallowed, looking up at her.

She nodded, plucking off his hat to fluff up his curly mop of hair.

“Yes, Baby. And that’s the kind of fighting I’ll be doing this week.” Shara picked him up and made to carry him back on the route to home. “Me, and Daddy, and Luke and Leia and Han—we’re all going to keep you safe, Poe.”

He nuzzled into her neck to smell the engine grease and sweetened caf and perfume smell— _Mama_. He didn’t look at the Great Temple fading into the distance.

* * *

He dreamt of Jedi and _war_. His Mama was there, his Daddy, too—he remembered Uncle Han telling him that his parents were heroes. That they fought side by side with Luke Skywalker, the Jedi Knight who defeated the Emperor himself. They were _heroes_.

He woke up with the warmth of the sun burning in his chest, pride bouncing through to his toes.

He was barely through breakfast before he was chattering on about speeders, and blaster fights, and Shara taking him up in the A Wing—he wanted to _fly_.

She smiled, but it was the smile that meant _no_.

“I’d love to, Baby, but I leave today.”

Kes took a swallow of piping hot caf, looking more stressed than Poe could understand.

“But you get to see Uncle Han and Aunt Leia, though…” it didn’t sweeten the pot, and his lip trembled. He had forgotten that she had to go. “How about you be on your best behavior for your daddy,” she ruffled his bedhead “and when I get back, I’ll let you hold the controls _all_ by _yourself_.”

Now _that_ was a deal.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

That morning was the first time Luke Skywalker landed on the Dameron fields. For Poe, at least. Poe recognized the engine of Uncle Han and Aunt Leia’s Millennium Falcon from where he sat in the kitchen, and ran out to see them the second he heard. 

Kes blanched and choked out a cry of Poe’s name as he bolted out of the garden, every inch the harried dad as he narrowly kept him from running right into the landing zone. He managed a relieved laugh and called out a greeting to the cockpit window, as if he wasn’t about to wave off his wife into the jaws of certain peril.

Poe had no idea what was running through his dad’s mind, every part of him consumed by his favorite ship in the galaxy, back in front of him like his own personal playground.

Han, Leia, and Luke Skywalker— _the_ Luke Skywalker—disembarked, shaking hands with Shara as she dropped her stuff at the base of the gangway, hugging their friends before Kes set Poe loose on them.

He was used to Han and Leia—they came around as often as they could-- but Luke was new. A mysterious character with a hood and bright eyes. Poe was only fazed by his awe for a moment, all but immediately tugging the man’s pant leg and regurgitating everything his Mama had told him about their adventures the day before.

“Are you going on another adventure? Is Exra Kun really gone? What will you do if the Dark Side comes back? Why do you need my Mama? Is she helpful? I think she’s the best—"

Luke was surprised, chuckling. Kes ran a hand down his face, “I told you he was too young to learn. Let him be a kid, Shara.”

“That’s why I’m _going_ , Kes. So, he can be a kid.”

“I’m talking about telling him about Kun and that _mission_ —”

“It’s his culture! You were going to tell him sometime, anyway.”

“But—”

“ _Please_. It’s only a few days—let’s not fight. I’ll be home soon, there’ll be _plenty_ of time for that.” That got a half of a chuckle out of him, and she grinned back. Shara cupped her husband’s cheek and kissed him soundly, letting herself be pulled into his arms for a long moment before pulling back a touch, “I’ll be fine, my Love. Don’t worry so much.”

He nodded before he unwound his arm from her waist, and Shara knelt in front of Poe.

She had tears in her eyes while she grinned at him “You remember what we talked about, Baby? I’m only gone for a week, and you’re gonna be good for your daddy. Yes?”

He nodded dumbly, suddenly feeling wary of the whole damn thing. It was like a tug in his chest, just under his heart, feeling like he had to go with her—it was like the fear in the moments after waking up from a nightmare, full of terror with no reason or direction.

His lip wobbled dangerously, and he felt his eyes start to sting with tears.

“C’mere.” She held him close, and he burrowed his nose into her neck the breathed in the pure comfort there, the curls that weren’t wrapped up in her braid popping out just enough to tickle his nose.

He could hear Uncle Han saying something about how they _needed to get going already_. But Aunt Leia just shushed him.

“Have a heart—she’s never been away from him like this before.”

It was so strange, the earliest memories that stick in your mind. Poe remembered distinctly how hard he cried and how confused he was when she took off. His dad had scooped him up and carried him into the house, singing in Yavinic, calming him down as best he could. He even remembered the headache he had when he finally had no tears left in his tiny body, just hiccupping against his dad’s chest, wrapped in one of Shara’s sweaters.

It smelled like her.

For the week that Shara was gone, they did their best. Kes walked him out to the ancestor’s temple to pray for Mama, and carried Poe out to the barn afterward, where he’d let him talk about the speeders and ships until his little face turned blue. He let Poe sleep on his Mama’s side of the bed so neither of them were alone. He watched Kes make dinner from a perch on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs till they smacked the cupboards.

Shara kept her promise and came home within the week, no worse for wear. She came home, and they went out in record time, racing to the barn to roll out her old A Wing.

She let Poe hold the controls in his tiny little hands all by himself—they didn’t leave the ground like that, but she always kept her promises.

It happened that way again and again. She’d come, she’d go, they’d fight, they’d make up, he’d have warm evenings in with Daddy, and bright sunny days with his Mama, and every day that they were all together was the best day.

Every time Shara came home Poe would beg her for stories and ask how she got every bruise and scrape. It spanned years, it became a routine, and it _felt_ _safe_. Until, suddenly, it wasn’t anymore.


	2. Promises Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer. Because this was really hard to write. 
> 
> Enjoy seems like the wrong word-- but, if you feel moved by this, please write a little comment and let me know. This was a labor of love.

Poe was nearly 8 years old when things were suddenly different.

The familiar sound of the Falcon’s hissing, spitting engine sent him bounding out of the house like it always had, with Kes on his heels. The wind kicked up by the landing freighter blew back his thick hair, and he stopped at the garden gate to watch as his family started to finally come down the gangway.

Aunt Leia came down first, and the smile started slipping off Poe’s face. There was a tug under his breastbone, a ball of cold dread settling in his gut as he took in the deep set of her frown. Her mouth opened and closed, hands absently gesturing to Kes when they made eye contact over Poe’s head. His father’s hand gripped Poe’s shoulder until it hurt, and he dared to look up.

Kes was pale as a ghost, his jaw working as he swallowed hard around what must’ve been more terror than his son had ever known.

“Leia?”

“ _Kes_ …” she took the short steps up to the garden gate and closed the distance with a hand on Kes’s bicep “It’s going to be okay, okay?”

“Poe—go back in the house. I’ll come get you.” His voice was thick and rough, and the dread became fear when he registered the tears in his Dad’s eyes, the look on Leia’s face. His own eyes started to swim.

“No! What’s wrong?”

“Poe—”

“It’s going to be okay-- she doesn’t _look_ good, but the bacta’s working.” She managed a tight smile “She’ll make a full recovery.”

Uncle Han and Luke were there, then, propping up a heavily battered Shara between them as they tentatively stepped down to the ground. Her eyes were bleary and unfocused, and a series of gashes marred her face and neck—every bit of visible skin seemed to be somehow bruised or bloodied. The tug in Poe’s little chest was suddenly unbearably strong, and he darted out of his dad’s grip and past the gate, rushing to his mother with tears falling down his face.

“Oh, _Baby_ …” she rasped, unwinding her arms from around Han and Luke to kneel in front of her son. It was almost a fall, but Kes was there in a moment to slow her descent, propping her against his chest as all three of them curled into each other on the grass.

Poe was shaking—he’d never even _considered it_ until he saw Aunt Leia’s face, and felt the wave of anxiety ripple from his dad into him. He had never thought that maybe, his Mama _wouldn’t come home_.

“We failed our mission—the last Force Tree. It’s gone.” Shara told Kes, her voice soft and weak.

“Some bastard blew it to Hell—” Han growled,

“I was closest to the blast… I’ll be _okay_. Stop looking at me like that.” She chuckled, and it triggered a rattling cough that shook Poe where he was pressed to her chest. Kes’s frown was probably a sight that could be seen from hyperspace, but Poe didn’t look.

“I’m so happy you’re safe.” when he finally broke his silence, it was said on a sigh.

Poe felt both his parents’ touch on him—his mother’s soft fingers carding through his hair, and his father’s big hand tracing along his spine. He never thought that it could ever be just him and his dad, that the galaxy could be so cruel to them.

* * *

She was home, and she stayed home for longer than she ever had between missions. Kes barely even had to fight her on it—the scars healed slowly and the limp hung around longer than expected. Shara tried to hide it, standing as straight as she could, but after a long day of standing around with Poe in the barn, inspecting speeder after speeder, her face would go pale and clammy. Poe tried to make her sit when he saw the signs.

Sometimes, he didn’t see them, though. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he was still just a kid. 

The days got longer and hotter as the dry season wore on. Shara healed and rested until even Kes’s most insistent protests couldn’t keep her out of the sky, racing her little boy to the barn to roll out the A Wing. She was letting him fly it all by himself, as long as she was in the cockpit with him—he was _good_. She told him so.

Poe’s 8th birthday came and went with family visits, gifts, long hours spent tinkering with the Falcon (Otherwise known as bothering Uncle Han about how his ship was broken again, and _why was he messing with the thermo-cuplars? It sounded more like the hyperdrive needed fixing?)_ , and his Mama finally letting him take off and land the A Wing without her help.

After the celebrations were over, though, there was one last gift. But it wasn’t for Poe.

He was supposed to be in bed—he was 8 now, though, and that meant a later bedtime, right? It should, at least. He wasn't a _baby_ anymore. 

“I can’t do it again, Luke… after what happened last time, I—” Shara’s voice was hushed.

“I understand… Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

There was a heavy pause.

”Why would you say that to me? You know how hard this is… all I want, Luke, is for my son to be safe. But, given the chance, I want to see him grow up. I want to give him brothers and sisters. I want to grow old with my husband, I want…”

“A normal life.” He sighed “I have something for you and Kes—that man’s green thumb could keep anything alive.”

Voices from outside his bedroom window had sent Poe creeping out into the garden. The summer heat still lingered in the grass under his toes as he watched Luke shift his cloak and hold something out towards Shara. He had one of his mysterious smiles on his face—the type that always concealed a story that Poe was dying to hear.

“I know you’ll keep it safe—and it’ll protect your home if you let it.”

“Luke, I can’t believe you even got it to propagate… _Thank_ you.” Shara breathed, smiling at her friend.

“What’s that?”

Poe would be an invaluable, gifted spy on high stress missions of intergalactic importance one day.

But, right then, he was an 8-year-old boy looking for adventure and fun and the stories his mother had raised him on. He could become a master of espionage later. He had plenty of time.

Shara turned to level him with the tried and true look of _I put you to bed an hour ago, what do you think you’re doing?_ and Poe at least had the decency to look sheepish about it. Luke chuckled, beckoning Poe over to them until he could get a good look inside the box.

It was… “A twig?”

“A sapling, Poe.” Shara corrected “This is one of the only ones left…”

“This is a Force Tree—” Luke said “It’s a conduit for the natural power of the galaxy.”

Poe did _not_ understand those words, but he nodded, looking down at the little twig in the box with a furrowed brow—it almost looked as if it was swaying. There was no breeze that night, the air was as still and humid as ever, and there was definitely no breeze _inside_ the box.

“How about you help me find a spot to plant it in the morning?” Shara smiled down at him as he tried to stifle a yawn that made his eyes water “Is it time for bed?”

He shook his head, his eyes staring up at her blearily.

“Really? I think maybe it is.” she grinned “C’mon, Ace—you can’t fly tomorrow if you can’t keep your eyes open, let’s go.”

He ran all the way to bed, as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

It should have been over, then. At least, it was supposed to be.

The change was palpable—the lines in Kes’s face were smoother and his eyes less clouded. Shara’s smiles were easy, even when her legs twitched to run. Mama and Dad didn’t fight half as much as they used to. Shara’s eyes glowed when she called him “my Love”, and he blushed like a schoolboy when she did.

The Dameron family were tending the sapling at the edge of the garden, and they were going out to their temple together, and playing hide and seek with the speeders in the barn.

It was good. Things were _good_ , and looking back, Poe wouldn’t remember these moments nearly as well as he could remember the _pain_ or the _confusion_ he'd feel later.

Back then, though, he wasn’t thinking about the future’s mess. Poe was thinking about one thing: he could fly by himself now.

Did he find this out only after he’d done it without a stitch of permission, in a fit of determination, feeling a little ignored? Yes.

Shara was white as a sheet, and Kes nearly lost his lunch when he saw his 8-year-old climb out of the cockpit of the A Wing alone only after he’d _landed_ it.

He thought he’d never hear the end of it.

But, when he finally gathered the courage to face his parents, Shara was jumping up and down, rushing through the fields to lift Poe down from the cockpit. Kes was practically passed out in the grass, trying to find the words to properly say how grounded their little pilot was.

Shara was grinning, way ahead of her husband. He didn’t know what he had expected, but his little heart could barely take it when his Mama pointed at her old A Wing and cried “Baby—that’s _your_ ship now!”

Kes was not amused and he may have drank an entire bottle of Alderaanian wine that night, rubbing his temples and muttering about crazy, reckless pilots and his son’s genetic predisposition for wildness. If he did these things, Poe didn’t know, because he was in the barn with _his_ _ship_ and his mother, learning to properly open an engine.

Things changed again soon after, when the Falcon once again landed on their fields.

Leia wasn’t there, because of the _baby_.

Poe hadn’t really remembered Aunt Leia’s explanation for why she was tired, why she was “taking it easy” at his birthday all those months ago. But now there was a _baby_.

And Aunt Leia couldn’t go on this mission. Because of some kid named Ben.

“It’s just a quick one, nothing too dangerous…”

“But it _is_ a 3-person job.” Han cut in when Luke tried to break it gently.

The Jedi shot his friend a glare before returning to his sales pitch “We’ll be a protection detail to the Bespin diplomat on Coruscant, essentially.”

“Not dangerous? Bespin is a hub for Imperial sympathizers! Their diplomat is a target!”

“Why d’you think they need 3 bodyguards, Kes?”

“Okay, okay. Before this goes any further, Gentlemen…” Shara quieted the room, while the kitchen table only got more unbearably tense. “Poe. Come out, I know you’re there.”

Busted.

The corner of the threshold to the hall may have been the perfect size at age 3, but it was too small for him to hide at 8. He didn’t drag his pillow with him this time as he made himself plod into the sitting room, looking over the table. Shara beckoned him closer with her usual expression, Kes and the other men watching him carefully as he listened to his mother’s wordless command. Poe didn’t feel right—that tug in his chest was back, and his stomach churned.

“Are you going away again?” he asked, looking down at his toes, shyer than he’d ever been.

Shara took a long moment before she put her finger under her son’s chin, making him look at her “Yes, Baby—”

“Shara!” Kes cried, his jaw set, his eyes blazing.

“—But I’ll be back soon.”

Something about it all _hurt_ , but he didn’t know what it was. His lip wobbled and he bit down to hide it. He was too old to cry. “You said you wouldn’t go anymore.”

Shara searched his face, all traces of a smile gone from her gaze.

“Go put on your shoes—let’s go sit in the garden, yeah?”

The garden was bright as day with the other Yavin moons reflecting light onto their fields. The Force Tree looked blue, glowing against the backdrop of the jungle at night. She took him just outside the gate to sit beneath it, her unruly curls lit up and haloing her face. She beckoned Poe to sit in her lap, and usually he’d put up the token fight-- he’d say he wasn’t a _baby_ anymore.

But the tug in his chest made him want to cry, or scream, or _something_ , and he _needed_ her.

They listened to the nocturnal soundtrack of their home planet, and Shara sighed out a long exhale as she leaned up against the trunk. Poe felt the press of her lips to his hair.

“Why do you go?” he broke the quiet, breathing in her comforting scent and relaxing into her hold.

“Because I have to keep you safe, Poe. It’s the last time. I _promise_.”

He touched her hand with his own small one, noticing that they both still had traces of engine grease under their nails.

“But _why?”_ he repeated. He didn’t know how to say it in a way that made sense.

“Because I _love_ you. And I _love_ your Daddy, and I can make your future brighter.”

Oh.

Strictly speaking, it was far too hot to be held like this—the monsoon was no more than a couple weeks away, and the humidity had climbed to new heights. Even in the comparative coolness of the night, the humidity left the air thick and hot, all of them just the littlest bit shiny from sweat and the vapor in the air. Poe loved it, though. The smell of his home was potent and heady on any precious breeze when the clouds to the east were getting ready to open up, and he inhaled long and deep to settle his nerves as Shara rubbed her hand down his back.

They sat like that until Poe’s eyelids were too heavy to bear.

“C’mon, Kiddo. Bed time.”

He only gripped her hands tighter and burrowed himself impossibly closer to her.

“Mama, what does it feel like?” he finally blurted out, too sleepy to care about his 8-year-old pride and shame “ _Love_.”

“Oh.” She sighed, and she smiled again, soft and bright, like when Dad kissed her good morning while the sun was just poking its way through the kitchen window; when they cast each other quiet smiles over his head while working in the garden; when they made up from some other stupid fight.

“Love is just another part of the Force. It binds us to each other, like a stretchy rope from person to person. And you maintain it, and you cherish it, and you add more cords of experience and knowledge to your rope, it gets stronger and stronger. When you wander from that person, you feel a tug right about here—” she tickled up his sides and made him giggle before poking at the exact center of him. Just at the bottom of his chest and the top of his belly. “That tug will always pull you back when you stray too far. You know you’ve found the right person when they trust you enough to always come back to them. You listen to that tug.”

“I feel a tug when you go, too.” He said through a yawn.

She chuckled, squeezing him tight for a moment “I feel one for you, too. Always have, always will.”

He fell asleep in his mother’s arms under the Force Tree, and he didn’t remember a thing until Dad was shaking him awake in his bed.

The clouds were thick and dark and angry over the house that morning.

Shara’s bag was back at the base of the Falcon’s gangway. Her hair was back in its long braid. Her blaster was back on her hip.

The tug in Poe’s gut was suddenly unbearable-- a twisting, miserable thing-- and he whimpered despite his best efforts to be strong. He wasn’t some little kid anymore. He told himself that, over and over whenever his lip would wobble. Poe was _not_ a _baby_. 

Han and Luke were waiting while Shara pulled Poe into her arms and squeezed and squeezed, planting a kiss to his cheek, to his forehead, over the top of his curls. Her eyes glimmered, tears sticking into her lashes, and Poe opened his mouth to say _don’t go, please—PLEASE_.

But he never got the chance.

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and said _“Last time_. I _promise_ you, Baby.”

He didn't have the words to correct her. The knot in his stomach was starting to strangle him, tangling around his throat and tongue. There was nothing to say, there was nothing to do-- for all they knew, there was nothing to _worry_ about. 

Shara always kept her promises. Poe swallowed the tightness in his throat, nodding and blinking hard.

She kissed her husband like she knew the future was bleak, and in hindsight Poe wondered if she did, to a certain degree. If the Force tried to tell her like it told him.

He was safely in his room before he let himself erupt into tears, trembling and feeling _stupid_ , and somehow knowing that things were falling apart in a way that he couldn’t describe.

* * *

Kes pruned the garden and inspected every leaf on the whole of the Force Tree.

Poe hid in the barn until his dad called him for dinner every night.

They both had one eye on the sky, waiting for the clouds to burst, waiting to hear the familiar engine of the Falcon to prove their worst fears wrong, waiting for the world to change forever.

Poe made a break from the kitchen table the second he heard that thunderous, rumbling rattle of broken thermo-cuplars—Kes called out, nearly choking on a sip of caf, running out after Poe like it was the first time.

But it was the last time.

Kes made Poe stop at the garden gate, as usual. He gripped tight to his bony little shoulder as the gangway fell to reveal two haggard, pale faces.

Two. Not three. 

Uncle Han had puffy eyes, his hands shoved deep in his pockets like he did when Aunt Leia was mad at him. 

Luke was almost entirely obscured from view, his hood up and his head down against the rain. 

“Where’s Mama?” Poe forced out the words, the rope in his chest snapping and unraveling, too numb to register, and too young to understand what it all meant. He put the pieces together, but he couldn't quite understand _why_ that dread was climbing up his throat.

Kes trembled, holding Poe’s shoulder until it nearly hurt.

“Poe—go inside.” His voice was ragged and breaking. Luke Skywalker was crossing through the grass, coming closer like some kind of spectre, his face drawn.

Poe looked up, and he would never forget the indescribable look on his dad’s face. Like broken wedding holos, skipping at the moment just before a kiss, stuck in a loop of yearning for those last two seconds where lips would brush if they could. It was the liminal moment of realizing the past would _never_ _come_ _back_.

“ _Dad_ —”

“Go. I’ll come to get you.” He rasped “ _Now_.”

From inside, he could only wait—for what, he didn’t know.

He pushed the kitchen chair up to the counter, peering out the window to see Kes’s shoulders, hunched, holding the gate like it was the only thing keeping his feet under him. Luke was talking softly, his blue eyes red-rimmed and stormy.

He tried to set a comforting hand on Dad’s shoulder, only for the rigid man to rip himself back from Skywalker’s grasp. Poe couldn’t see Kes’s face.

Poe heard a lot of things. Murmured apologies that would never be enough, and a tearful, stuttering _No. No, no, no_ repeated over and over, as if the truth could be changed by anything short of a miracle. He heard his father’s growl of _“Once this is over, Skywalker—you and your friends better never darken my door again. D’you hear me?”_

Drops of rain started pattering against the window, obscuring Poe’s view as his dad pushed open the garden gate like it weighed a ton, his strength beyond sapped. He lifted his feet one step at a time, up to the Falcon gangway.

As a man, Poe couldn't remember more than flashes and feelings from that day.

He remembered the patter of the rain becoming the roar of the monsoon, and the humidity cracking and breaking into a million pieces around the Dameron fields. More than anything, he remembered the ragged, howling _scream_ of his dad when he stepped into the Falcon and saw the lifeless body of his wife. The sound sliced through the space between the freighter and the kitchen window where Poe was shaking and crying, unable to explain how he _knew_. His little hands were clamped over his ears where he was curled up on the floor, unable to breathe, unable to process just how the galaxy could be so cruel.

* * *

They buried her under the Force Tree the next morning.

Usually, she’d be buried in the ancestor’s temple, but this wasn't a _usual_ situation.

Usually, it would be a wild party. Everyone would be there across their sparse home planet—they came, he supposed, but Poe couldn’t remember much of a party. They brought food and sad eyes and useless platitudes while Kes seethed and Poe stared straight ahead.

The Falcon was gone. It never came back.

She was buried under the patch of earth where she’d last held him, told him about love, and made him a _promise_.

Thunder rumbled and lightning lit up the sky for days afterward, but the Force Tree didn’t lose a single leaf. It had paused in its endless sway, standing sentinel, as if it _knew_ just as well as Poe and Kes did. 

For that first week, neither of them were at their best. How could anyone expect them to be?

Kes let Poe sleep on his Mama’s side of the bed, where it still smelled like her soap, her engine grease, and _her_. Poe woke up every night, alone, only to plod out into the sitting room and find his Dad’s bloodshot, bereft face, sitting listlessly in a chair that used to be comfortable-- back when _life_ was _comfortable_. He was getting taller, lankier than he’d ever been, but Poe still curled himself into Kes’s lap and let himself cry for the thousandth time, listening to his heartbeat and hitching breaths. He carded his fingers through Poe’s curly hair, and they both cried. Sometimes, he'd mutter _It's okay, it's okay Dad_ for the both of them, trying anything to keep their little family from shaking further apart under the strain of Shara's heavy absence. 

For that week, Poe couldn’t _ever_ be where Kes wasn’t. The clench of knotted rope wrapped around his heart would squeeze until he was breathless whenever his dad was out of his sight. Terrified of being alone— _all_ _alone_.

He couldn’t manage to get his feet to take him to the barn until week number 2.

She used to come bounding out of that piece-of-junk freighter, her braid streaming behind her. Kisses and greetings and promises aside, Shara would race her son to the barn to roll out her old A Wing.

It looked just like how he and his Mama had left it.

The hood was popped, the engine exposed. It smelled like grease, electricity, and the musk of the rain outside.

She _gave_ _it_ to him. His hand shook as he set it on the cool metal, afraid it might disappear like her.

His bottom lip trembled for the millionth time in those two weeks, shock passing to numbness, numbness passing to fear, and fear passing to a red-hot rage that left him boiling in his shoes. Poe’s eyes burned and his vision swam, his throat too tight and ragged to breathe, his jaw set until his teeth ground into each other.

He picked up the wrench by his feet and swung with a desperate cry. He swung and swung until he was blinded by his tears and his screams turned into sobs. The thunder raged and rumbled, and the rain pounded onto the roof, and Poe didn’t realize that he was getting _wet_ until a big hand grabbed his wrist.

He tugged, turning around and rearing up against his father, who was soaked from the rain. He shushed him like he was some kind of _baby_ , and Poe tried to fight back, only for Kes to fold his son up into his chest and hold him until he was forced to drop the wrench. Until he gave in and deflated against his saturated shirt, exhaustion making him heavy down to his bones. 

He huffed and he trembled, his cries becoming whimpers, his whimpers becoming pitiful little sniffles.

They were sitting on the floor of the barn, Poe pressed against Kes’s broad chest, cooing any soothing little thing he could think of. The song was Yavinic, the melody was familiar, and Poe just couldn’t cry anymore.

“You’re stronger than you look, Kiddo. Did some actual damage.” He finally said, letting out a low whistle.

Poe just let out one last sob, strangled with guilt.

“Y’know how many times this thing has been broken? Your Mama…” he paused, letting out a shaky breath “She trashed the thing a hundred times. The only way I was able to get the time of day from her when I first met her… for the longest time the only way she’d stop to chat was if I would pass her some tool or another. During the war…” he choked, taking shuddering breaths as he squeezed Poe around his little waist and pulled him closer.

They just sat for a while, again, the rain falling and the last of that sentence to be saved for another day. Maybe another week, or month, or _year_. When it all felt less like a gaping wound and more like a scar.

“Kiddo, it’s _my_ _job_ to tell _you_ things are gonna be okay. Okay?”

He waited, so Poe nodded.

“Okay… You’re mine and I’m yours, and I’m not going anywhere. So—so… count on it, Poe. When you need me, you say it. I'll be here. We’re gonna miss Mama, and we’re gonna admit that this is a nightmare… because this is my _nightmare_.” He swallowed hard “But, we’re here. You and me— and it’ll be enough. Because I love you, Poe.” He kissed his hair and Poe thought of Shara with a sharp pang in his chest. He held his dad’s hand tighter. “So _much_ , Kiddo.”

They stayed there until their bones ached from the position. The rain pounded on and the A Wing looked a mess—dented, with wires crossed and window bashed in.

Poe sniffed, and picked the wrench back up from where it lay on the ground beside them. He looked his dad in the eye with a sheepish half of a smile.

“Want to… Want to hand me tools and stuff?”

Kes smiled—the first real expression on his face since Shara last boarded the Falcon, and Poe felt comfortable for the first time since _home_ meant just the two of them.

“Yeah, Kiddo. I’d like that.”


End file.
